


The Aftermath and Us

by LilyRosetheDreamer



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hanzo is tired, a short story, angela is curious, hope this is alright!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosetheDreamer/pseuds/LilyRosetheDreamer
Summary: In the aftermath of the demon attack upon Hanamura, Hanzo wanders the castle, remembers, and meets the woman who saved Genji's life.





	The Aftermath and Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything and I know I’m rusty so I’m building myself back up with one-shots right now. I made one on Tumblr based in Victubia and am now coming back to OW. The multi-chapter Hanzo fic will be updated soon, I swear. For now, have some more Healing Arrow for Khrysm!

The Shimada have finally abandoned this castle.

It’s a strange feeling just to think those words in his head and Hanzo dares not say them out loud – just in case. He surveys the destruction, the splintered wood and scattered gravel and wonders what he should feel first – sick that Genji had to fight a demon alone in the place of his own-near death? Or perhaps he was supposed to feel sad at the destruction of his once-home?

His stomach churning, Hanzo walks forward up the steps, stopping at the dented old bell. His brow furrows as he stares at the great bronze piece, lopsided in the aftermath.

He hadn’t even known, probably would have gone on not knowing, until Genji called.

Genji called him.

His fingers curl around the slim phone in his pocket, boots crunching across the gravel as he makes his way to the main temple and living space connected to it. Cherry blossoms land in his hair, pale and pink against glossy black. His shaved sides are still foreign to him, even after three months.

The destruction is more evident in here and Hanzo’s soft brown eyes widen in utter shock before he slumps against the wall, his heart quickening in fearful earnest.

A demon.

It violated the memorial, burned the polished wood and pulled its blackened claws savagely through everything it could reach.

Genji fought it here - fought it in the **same room** Hanzo tried to take his life, the same room where his sword cut through his brother’s limbs like coloured silk.

His breathing hitches and Hanzo covers his face, shaking as he fumbles to the doors leading to where he had once lived. Hanzo can’t deal with this room anymore, not since the last anniversary.

Genji…maybe it should be left to him. D.Va (the girl who made sure he hadn’t fought alone) would help, that much he is sure of. If he had been any kind of brother, Hanzo would have fought by his side in the struggle. But he cannot dwell, for there is much to sort through and Hanzo wants to be gone by tomorrow at least. Vaguely, he wonders who will buy this building (and the land with it). Who will walk through the halls, following the trails he once carved out? It won’t be a Shimada; the demon attack broke any resolve the remainder of the clan had. Superstition and fear will keep them away for the rest of their days, sending them out into the world.

Hanzo’s fingers trace the walls as he wanders slowly through the corridors, taking his time because despite everything, he’s missed this.

Is Genji doing the same as him now, affected and lost in thought? Or has his newfound peace left him cleaning and stacking as though the mansion were just another warehouse? He hasn’t seen his brother yet and Hanzo is selfishly glad – he doesn’t have the strength right now. Hanzo isn’t sure he ever will.

Something catches on the edge of his vision, pulls him to a stop in realisation.

The piano sits untouched in the corner, the shining birch wood clean. The whole room itself is tidy, a few knick knacks here and there. It was only meant for entertainment, but Hanzo’s few and precious childhood memories all collaborate here, in this room that echoed music and love.

He blinks.

His eyes are burning and it takes him several false starts before finally, timidly, he steals inside.  He hesitates as he reaches it, his fingers trembling above the lid.

Hanzo is a Shimada.

_We do not run and we do not cry, my son._

Hanzo bites his lower lip hard and strokes the lid, his breathing steadier now. He remembers how to play, a kind melody running through his mind as he sits and opens the lid before he’s really registered what he’s doing. Hanzo hasn’t touched a piano for ten years, too caught up in blood and misery to care. His heart and hands missed it deep down and Hanzo swallows as the worn pads of his fingers tentatively draw out a high, sweet sound from the key on the end.The next moment, Hanzo is playing a song torn by grief and aching with terror and it is as though he never stopped playing.  It’s as though his mother is still here with him, letting his small body lean against as he teaches, laughing with him when his pudgy hands mess up the notes just because he can. It’s overwhelming, pin pricks under the skin and dragging through his blood, and he doesn’t realise she’s watching until the last note lingers and dies.

“I didn’t know anyone was here until I heard you,”

Hanzo doesn’t jump, but he twitches before rotating slowly to look at the blonde woman leaning against the doorframe. His gaze stays on her pretty face for a moment.

“You must be Hanzo Shimada,” she suddenly says with a smile.

Hanzo doesn’t look away, though part of him wants to flee.

_You’ll probably meet Angela – she saved my life back then._

“You must be Doctor Ziegler,” he murmurs, bowing his head to her. “I should go and…sort more items,”

He turns away, intent on closing the lid, when her pale hand stops him. He meets her periwinkle eyes again awkwardly.

“Please, you looked like you were enjoying yourself! Don’t stop on my account,”

Hanzo’s brow knits together.

Had he?

He keeps his face smooth somehow, burying the embarrassment and mortification. He’s exposed and he hates it – especially knowing that it is in front of the woman who started his brother on the road to recovery and saw the extent of the suffering. Hanzo can guess exactly what she thinks of him, for he directs it at every mirror he sees. He must give away that he’s uncomfortable because she removes her hand from the lid and smiles apologetically.

“I also like hearing you play, if that helps,” she says, kindness etched into the crinkles at the corner of her eyes.

Hanzo blinks, staring down at his hands resting on the keys. What can he say to his brother’s saviour?

“I was not aware you made time for men who betray their own,”

Doctor Ziegler’s expression turns careful, guarded.

“Perhaps I didn’t really see you as human until now,”

Hanzo snorts with little mirth.

“It would be best if you kept along that line of thought, Doctor. That would be much safer.”

Mercy opens her mouth for a moment, then closes it and seats herself next to him, raising his distrust.

“You play the piano?”

Hanzo frowns at the line of questioning, as the answer is rather obvious, but replies anyway. He may as well indulge her then leave to a quieter, hopefully more isolated space where he can think in peace.

“I know a little,” she muses as Hanzo nods, her own slender hands trailing over a key thoughtfully. “Never quite got into it however,”

Hanzo refrains from asking why he should care. He absently presses down on a pedal with his foot.

“Genji brought you here,”

“Yes, he wanted me to see where he grew up!” she replies brightly, ignoring the confused, almost askance glance he gave her (though her brightness is strained).

“A foolish endeavour,” he mutters, tracing out the beginnings of a new song. “There was little happiness here.”

She watches him as he turns, clearly done with the line of conversation. If he blinks at the piano long enough, perhaps she will leave. Instead, she slinks gracefully closer and he moves away until he is perched on the edge. She glances at him coyly and he wonders what is going on here, truly.

“I wondered if I might be able to have a go at playing this?”

Not quite knowing why, Hanzo nods. It will be easier to get this over and done with – they can part ways soon after and she won’t have to be in the same room as Genji’s fratricidal brother. She’s already been too familiar with him in a way and it fills him with a sense of…unease? That must be it.

Her fingers brush the keys, similar to his actions earlier and his eyes are drawn to them.

“You’ll have to forgive me for making you go deaf,” she jokes.

Hanzo’s lips crease into a wry smile.

“I am lucky you are a skilled doctor then.”

Mercy doesn’t reply, for she’s too absorbed in tapping the keys, testing out all the sounds like a schoolgirl. The archer listens, places his own hands back on the piano and starts playing, the sound wafting without a care in the world.

At least, that’s how it sounds to her.

Studiously, she joins in halfway, her addition not as certain, but they are sweet, high notes nonetheless.

Surprisingly, Hanzo doesn’t feel overwhelmed or on edge after a few more minutes. In fact, he is relaxing, sinking into their duet.

All too suddenly, it is over, as though they had never started playing in the first place. The last notes drift off and Hanzo’s body is leeching warmth from her side, acutely aware of how close she is. The warmth becomes a burning brand and he shifts away, standing and bowing at the waist before her unreadable expression.

“I apologise, I have been here for too long. I – I should be clearing the rooms…farewell.”

Hanzo spins on his heel and all but rushes out, his cheeks aflame and his palms sweating.

The room is so quiet, a pin could have fallen and she would hear it.

Instead, she places one hand on her chest and the other on her cheek, a slightly dazed smile gracing her lips.

“My my, _that_ was interesting.”

Angela Ziegler **is**  a curious woman.

And he is rather intriguing.

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s it! Hope you all enjoyed this story!  
> Love Lily. x


End file.
